We shall never speak his name
by AlucardBelle
Summary: When Emily Rosters gets a job at the local high school at Elm street in her grandmother's hometown, little does she know about the man in the teenagers nightmares, but she's about to find out. Please read. Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is my very first story on here. It's also my first NOES story. That means that it probably won't be very good, but I'll try my very best. If the character is slightly Mary Sue-ish in any way, I deeply apologize.**

Chapter 1: New Nightmares

"So… Why do you want to apply to be the guidance counselor of Elm Street High?"

A female voice replied, "Well, I've always liked kids… Plus, I heard that your previous counselor quit-"

"Ahem! Yes, Mrs. Finkles had some… issues she was locking up. They bubbled up until she suffered from a nervous breakdown. Quite sad. She will be missed." Mr. Unklin pronounced. He was the principal of Elm St. High, Springwood, Ohio. In the female's gaze, he had to be at least forty, with his graying black hair and slightly sagging face.

"Oh, of course. It's just… I lived and worked a ways away from here. I thought maybe if I got to a different town, it would a nice change of pace." The woman stated.

This caused the principal to raise an eyebrow. This woman in front of him was not what he was expecting in the interview that afternoon. He had expected someone a bit older, perhaps chubbier. What sat in front of him was a woman, who couldn't be older than thirty-two, if even that old, with the slightly toned body of some sort of athlete.

She had reddish brown hair, with a little more red than brown, than swept past her shoulders. It complemented the brown eyes that currently gave a nervous and frightened stare. He remembered that it was the middle of October, as a loose jacket hung on her shoulders, a t-shirt visible. A noticeable cross lay on a necklace around her neck, the metal gleaming in the light of the lamp nearest her.

Mr. Unklin cleared his throat, "Ah, I see Mrs.-" He paused for a moment as he looked at the name on the application, "Emily Rosters? No relation to the Mrs. Rosters down here on Elm Street, I presume? Mabel didn't say anything about relatives coming…"

Emily looked shocked, "Uh, yes, sir. She's my grandmother. I'm staying with her for a while, until I get my own place." She had forgotten how tight-knit everyone in the town was with one another. They all probably knew who she was.

Skimming over the application again, the principal coughed, "Ms. Rosters… This says you were working at a place called, 'The Cat's Club'?"

Emily's face reddened, "Oh, sir, there is a logical explanation-"

"I'm going to be brief, Ms. Rosters, were you in any way a prostitute or stripper? We can't have that kind of person at our school…"

The blush had crept throughout her entire face, making her resemble a tomato.

"No, sir! I was a cabaret dancer. I wore some pretty tight costumes, but I never did something like that. You see, I took some of those online college classes for psychology in my spare hours, so I could get a job like this someday. Um, does that answer your question?"

The principal let out a sigh, "Normally, I wouldn't hire someone like you, who looks like she's never applied for a job before… But, we don't have any other applicants because nobody else wants this job. Before I employ you, though, I would like to ask a rather personal question…"

Emily's heart felt like it had stopped and she couldn't breath, "Yes, Mr. Unklin?"

"Well, on your application… It, well, it really doesn't give your age. If you wouldn't mind me asking… how old are you?" Mr. Unklin was curious, that and he needed the information to actually register her in the school records.

A sigh of relief escaped the woman, a smile growing on her face, "No problem, Mr. Unklin. You see, this next year will be my third annual 28th birthday, if you catch my drift. I'm not quite ready for the big 3-0 yet." A nervous laugh bubbled out of her lips.

Out of everything she said, that was what made the principal laugh, "Yes, I get what you mean. Trust me, the big 4-0 is just as hard. I'll just fill that in and we'll be done. I hope to see you early tomorrow morning." Emily nodded gratefully and left his office.

As she made her way outside, she noticed that the school was actually pretty small, not surprising since the town was so tiny in comparison to others. Connected to the main building was a smaller, shed-like building that was the guidance counselor's office. From that day on, that would be where Emily Roster would work during school days. All she could do was sigh heavily when she walked down the street to her grandmother's house.

That was going to be a nice thing about working at the school. The distance was so short she could walk every day. Pulling out her keys, she unlocked the door and stepped inside the house, only to see what looked like a laundry basket running right at her. It didn't take long before the basket ran and tackled her leg, making her fall backwards onto the porch.

"What the hell?" Emily yelled. The basket lay toppled upside down next to her, a small black creature jumping on her stomach. Its claws were extended and pricked her skin as it walked up her stomach to her chest. Yellow eyes gave off a mischievous glare. The mouth opened, fangs protruding.

A soft pink tongue began to lick her chin, causing a yelp, "Freddie! You stupid cat! Stop it! That… That actually tickles! C'mon, quit it, you crazy thing!" Picking the furry black cat by the scruff, Emily gave a disapproving glare, right before kissing 'Freddie' on the nose.

"You're getting better at sneaking up on me. The basket was a nice touch. Does Grandma know you took it?" Emily asked. Freddie simply opened his eyes wider, trying to look innocent.

She chuckled, "I'll take that as a no." As if on cue, Mrs. Mabel Rosters, Emily's grandmother, walked to the front door, her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed at the pair as she snatched up the laundry basket. Apparently she wanted to go to bed early, as she was dressed in her nightgown, her silver hair in two braids.

"That cat is the devil." She stated in a hoarse voice, the consequence of smoking for almost fifty years, "You and it will be the death of me." Emily noticed that her grandmother had no problem with the cat until she found out it's name was Freddie. Ever since then, she disliked the cat and the cat wasn't fond of her either.

When she got like that, it was best just to leave it alone. Emily got up off the ground, kissing her grandmother. She dropped Freddie, who promptly scurried back into the house and to where he usually scurried off to: Emily's room. Even moving into the new home the week or so earlier, Freddie quickly learned which room was hers so that he could lie in there whenever he felt like it.

The sun was beginning to go down outside and soon it would be night. Emily's grandmother quickly went to bed, and Emily herself walked to her room to find Freddie on top of the twin size bed, curling into one of the pillows. Sneaking over, Emily lay down next to him, picking up her current-favorite book, 'Dark Desires'. Although she would never admit it, she was an avid reader of Harlequin-type novels. She would probably stay up for most of the night just trying to finish that one.

Feet pounded against concrete ground. A girl of fifteen was running from something. Around her, she could only see metal pipes and metal walls. She was in some kind of boiler room. Behind her, a screeching noise of metal on metal echoed. A laugh seemed to be right in her ear, like he was right next to her.

Who was this man chasing her and why was it only when one was dreaming? Not many of his 'children' would find out before they died. To the ones to survive long enough to find out, he was Freddy Kruegar, master of nightmares. The girl didn't run for long when she ran into him, a trick on his part. His laughter increased by tenfold as he brought his glove down, a knife on each of the fingers, and the girl knew. She was never going to wake up.


	2. Chapter 2: Nightmares

Chapter 2

At around three in the morning, the sound of police and ambulance sirens rang through Elm Street. It wasn't long before a crowd of people was out on the street to see what was going on. Emily simply looked out her window, as she got enough of a view from where she stood, while her grandmother went out with the rest of them, trying to figure out what was going on. Emily pressed herself closer to the glass as a body was taken into the waiting ambulance.

The workers were slow and in no hurry. Whoever it was, they were dead. A woman ran out of the house screaming, eyes red with tears. A man came out afterwards, grabbing the woman and holding her in his arms. He was crying too as a police officer went over and began to talk to them. It was at that moment that Emily realized that the covered body was probably their child.

"She was murdered." A voice came from behind. Mrs. Rosters stood at the door of Emily's bedroom, leaning against the post, "They don't know how he got in there, but they're saying that Anne Meyer had slash marks all over her chest. She was just fifteen and I've known her parents since _they_ were kids. It's too horrible for words. Who could do something like this?"

The younger woman sighed deeply. Why would someone do that? It didn't make sense for whoever just to kill the daughter and leave the parents okay. A slight pain throbbed in Emily's head as she thought about it. She was never held an interest to detective work. That's what the police were for. They would figure it out. And when they did, it would be one less creep off the streets. One less person for parents and grandparents to worry about.

"Are you okay Grandma?" she questioned, "I mean, you can stay in here if you want…"

"No. No, I'm fine." Mrs. Roster protested, "It's just… It reminds me of something that happened a long, long time ago."

"What?"

"…It's nothing. Like I said, it was a long time ago, and some memories are best left forgotten." With that, she left the room, leaving Emily to her own thoughts. It was never like her to just leave something unsaid like that. Memories were never 'left forgotten' with her grandmother.

Still awake, she continued to watch the street as the police filed the crowd back into their homes. After everyone had left and the street was back to its tranquil silence, Emily curled back into bed, quickly falling asleep. What she didn't see, what no one really noticed, was the house next door to Anne Meyers. If they had, they would have seen was that a single room on the second floor had it's light on. There, in the window, was a girl around Anne's age, watching them all from where she stood. She knew what had actually happened.

Why did she know? Because the man of Anne's dreams was the man of hers as well. Her name was Jessica Richards, and Freddy Kruegar stalked her nightmares. She had gone for days without sleep and that night was no different. Yet, she couldn't keep her eyes open, and with much resistance, she fell asleep in the chair beside her bed.

As she opened her eyes in the dream world, Jessica hoped and prayed that it wasn't one of _his_ nightmares. This hope came crashing down as she heard that laugh. Without thinking, she began to run. She had the scars to show what happened if you didn't run fast enough from him. Blond hair whipped around her face as the laugh grew louder, closer than before. She could hear her name being called in between chuckles.

"Jesse… Jesse…" the voice called, "You better run faster, little piggy!" Her bare feet began to ache as they scraped along the holed catwalk of what was now the boiler room. The fact that she was used to the place was frightening.

"Hey, Jesse!" The girl stopped for a moment and whipped around to see that looming, disfigured monster in his usual red-and-green sweater and fedora. He was grinning, "Watch this!"

In the next moment, he sliced his ungloved hand off, a geyser of yellow goop splaying from his wrist. The hand lay at the floor besides his feet, the fingers still moving. Jessica screamed and again started to run. She began to mentally pray to god to save her, to wake her up.

A low growl came from behind, "There's no god here! He's abandoned you, bitch!" She had forgotten that here, Kruegar could read her thoughts as if she said them aloud in words. The only way to wake up was either to be woken up by someone else or to have pain inflicted upon the person sleeping. Even though she had figured that much out, her stomach turned at the thought.

She knew she wouldn't be able to run much longer. The sound of his gloved knives on the pipes only reminded her of the other option. Her eyes locking onto one of the many steaming pipes, she reached out her left hand for it. As soon as her skin touched the metal, a burning sensation grew within her palm. She screamed at the pain, only to find that she was no longer in the boiler room, but her own room, in her chair. A sigh of relief passed through her, and she wondered how her parents hadn't woken up at the noise.

Observing her left hand, she could see an angry, pulsing scar begin to form in her palm, right where she had grabbed the pipe. She quickly went downstairs to get some coffee, and would hopefully stay awake. Her life depended on it.

As the sun rose on the small town of Springwood that morning, a choking silence filled the air. The birds didn't chirp. The flowers, which were usually so perky and bright, now seemed faded and drooping. The gloom in the air was too thick for the citizens not to notice. Teens such as Jessica pouted at the thought of going to school on such a day, not that any of them would want to go on a better one. Emily could see the kids dragging their feet as they trudged to the school.

She cringed slightly as she remembered how much she used to hate Mondays just because it meant that school was on for another week. With a sigh, she jogged over to the small shed that was her office. As she opened the door, the first thing she noticed was the shining key on her desk. That was probably a sign that she would need to lock up whenever she left, not that she really saw why, as what could you steal from a guidance counselor's office?

The next was a small manila envelope, right next to the key. Sitting down, and realizing that the small chair shook way too much for comfort, she flipped through it to see that it was a collection of student profiles. The teen's name would be listed at the top, followed by their grade, then what they would need to see her for. It seemed simple enough. Skimming through, she noticed normal things, such as: prone to get into fights, family death, death of a close friend, relationship issues, and divorce. There was reasoning, though, that noticeably popped up once or twice that was strange enough to attract her attention: "Student is prone to horrific nightmares." What could that mean?


	3. Chapter 3: Introductions

**Oh my gosh, I'm so, so, sorry! With school finals coming up and a bad case of writers block, I was hardly able to get this chapter out, I apologize to the small amount of people reading this… I'll do my best to not be as bad with the next one, I promise! Not much Freddy in this one, but I'm trying to place more of a background in this one for the rest of the story. Thank you for reading!**

Chapter 3

Emily sat in her office, waiting for her first student of the day to talk to. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. Although she knew it wouldn't really be appropriate, she secretly wished she had brought her novel to read. At least then she wouldn't be twiddling her thumbs, actually wishing that some kid would come in and pour out their problems to her. There wasn't even a computer she could monkey around on! Then she began to wonder if it was possible to get a laptop cheap that she could connect to the school system.

As she was trapped in her thoughts, the door to her office opened. Jessica Richards walked in, silently shutting the door behind her. She had been told to report to the guidance counselor's office after almost falling asleep in Algebra II. Again. As if some woman would keep Freddy away. Especially since it wasn't Mrs. Finkles, as the teen had actually grown used to her after countless "pep talks". Jessica had decided that the only reason Kruegar hadn't attacked her was because it only helped Jessica look like she was losing it.

By this point, Emily had turned her back to Jessica, causing the teen to speak up, "Ah… Excuse me!" Emily jumped at the sound, attempting to turn the chair around. The chair then collapsed under the sudden pressure.

"Shit!" the new counselor shouted, falling to the ground. A slew of profanities escaped her lips as her face collided with the floor.

Jessica stayed glued to where she was, "Oh my god, are you okay?" Quickly the woman jumped up, brushing herself over as if she had never fallen in the first place.

She coughed, "Of course. That was completely intentional. As was…. The cursing… Oh, jeez. Can you just pretend you didn't see that? Or hear?" She could feel the blood rush to her face, as she had just possibly ruined the student's impression of her.

The student just stood there for a moment, taking everything in, before letting out a burst of laughter, "Seriously? You're my new counselor?"

"Yes, I am. Just…. Sit down and shut up- I mean be quiet. It's not nice to laugh." Emily snapped. Quietly the girl did just that, taking the hopefully more stable chair in front of her desk. Instead of sitting, she just stood behind her desk, observing the teen in front of her.

She had wavy blonde hair, which hung limp around her pretty-but-worn face. Lines sprouted like the roots of a tree under her dull green eyes. Her skin was pale, her lips bloodless in color. Emily likened her to someone who had just been in an accident of some sort, although she was far from disorderly. In fact, she was quite clean, and it was obvious that the girl had taken the time to apply a soft pink nail polish to her hands. Unfortunately, the attempt at a better look only made her sicklier looking.

"What's your name?" Emily asked.

"Jessica Richards, but, just call me Jesse. I don't like Jessica and I hate Jess." The girl looked down, as if even saying her name was taboo. She began to look and mess at her nails like they were the most interesting things in the world. Emily flipped through the profile pages, searching for her name.

At the first sight of "Richards" she stopped, "Okay, Jesse. This says that you're in eleventh grade, you just turned seventeen, and that…." When she reached the bottom, she saw it: "Student is prone to horrific nightmares."

"What?"

"Nothing. Were you sent here or did come here on your own?" the counselor asked. She knew she was beating around the bush, but the question she wanted to ask was too silly.

Jesse glanced up, "I was sent here. I've been falling asleep in class for a while now… I don't sleep well." It wasn't a lie, just not the whole truth. The minute she mentioned Freddy Kruegar, she would probably be shipped off to the nearest insane asylum.

"….I see." Emily mumbled, "Is there a reason you don't sleep well? Are you an insomniac, or do you have… nightmares?" Jesse tensed as the counselor waited in anticipation for the answer.

The teen looked down again, "Nightmares. I don't want to talk about them." Without thinking, she began to trace the scar on her palm. It wasn't swollen and didn't hurt when she touched it, but that didn't make it okay. Nothing would make it okay.

Emily coughed lightly, not wanting to bring attention to the girl's wound, "Well, I can't help if you don't let me." She tried not to show it, but she was getting agitated. She was never a patient person. This girl looked traumatized, but over what, a few bad dreams? Something wasn't adding up.

She tried again, "Look, why aren't you telling me anything? I don't bite, I swear. They make us sign a no-biting-children lease when we get the job." A small giggle erupted from Jesse at the lame joke, just before frowning.

"Well, I don't know anything about you." She stated, "I can't just tell some stranger personal stuff like my dreams." Before the adult could make a retort, a bell rang above their heads, calling the students for lunch. The girl gave a polite nod before leaving, the door slamming behind her. Emily simply stared at the door in frustration.

She sighed heavily, "Perfect. Just perfect. That went _so_ well." Of course, not only did the first student seem disturbed, but she also had no chair. Considering it was her lunch period too, that was her first priority. She was thankful she had a big breakfast, as she then realized that she had no money for the school lunch. Could this day get any better?

She walked into the larger building next to her office, figuring that the janitor would probably be her best bet for a chair. High school hadn't changed much since she went, as she could still see the same groups of people together. Preps hung with preps. Jocks hung with jocks. Punks hung with punks. A smile grew on her face because she knew that after high school, most of the kids would grow up and find their own way of life. But for now, they probably wouldn't spend time with anyone but who was in their group.

Wandering around for a bit longer, she began to wonder if she was actually going to find it. Then, there it was: the Janitor's closet. She knocked on the door, only to find herself standing there with no one letting her in. Knocking again, there was still no answer. Already irritated from earlier, she tried the doorknob, to find that the closet opened with ease. Her hand shot to the wall, trying to turn on the light.

Looking in, she was actually surprised at how big the room was, as it looked much smaller from outside. The closet itself was probably bigger than most of the classrooms. Emily could feel a slight pang of claustrophobia as the room was filled with everything from toilet paper to old textbooks. She scanned her eyes around, searching for the closest chair, eventually spotting a chair that would go to a student's desk. It looked old, but held up without any creaking as the woman sat down. What she didn't see was the man creeping up behind her, his hand slapping down on her shoulder.

"Oh my God!" she yelled, falling out of her chair for the second time that day. A howl of laughter pealed behind her, revealing a man possibly in his fifties or sixties in a blue uniform.

He chuckled, "Didn't scare you did I? Probably thought I was old Freddy Kruegar, huh?"

"Whose Freddy Kruegar?" Emily asked, picking herself up off the ground. Maybe it was some kind of urban legend she'd never heard of.

The man's eyes opened wide and he looked genuinely surprised, "You don't know who that is…?"

"Should I?"

"Oh, wait, now that you mention it… I've never seen you around in town. Are you Mabel's granddaughter that I've been hearing so much about?" The man looked shook up, "You must be. The names Ernie Smither. Has your grandma ever talked about me maybe?" At this he let out a smile.

After the words sunk in, the counselor mumbled a reply, "No, I can't say she has. Are you the janitor?"

"Yep, that's me. I've been working for this high school as long as I can remember." He looked as though he was going to let out a joke, but the woman had no time.

She cut him off before he could say anything else, "That's awesome. Are you using this chair? I kind of need it." The man just began to laugh again. At this rate, lunch would end and she would have to carry the chair in a hallway full of hundreds of teenagers. Not a prospect she looked forward to.

"You are just like your grandma!" he snorted, "Sure you can take it. I was wondering when that old chair in there was going to bust… I'll help you move it if you want." It was at this point that Emily began to wonder if he was always like that, or if he really thought she was that funny.

She picked up the chair, "No. No, I'm fine. I've got it. If I can ask something, though, who is Freddy Kruegar? You never said, and now I'm curious." Immediately his face darkened and it felt as though all the air in the room had been sucked out.

He scowled, "Nobody. I shouldn't have said anything…. Just take your chair and go, Ms. Rosters. Tell your grandmother I said, 'hi'. "

With that, the counselor was shooed out of the closet and sent back to her own office. Fortunately for her, the bell didn't ring again for the students until she was back in her office. Even though she knew she should listen to Ernie the janitor, the name clung to the back of her mind. Freddy Kruegar. It made her think of her little kitten and yet sent a shiver down her spine. Had she heard the name before or was it just natural instinct?

Her thoughts were interrupted as a knock rapped upon her door.


	4. Chapter 4: Secrets

**Oh my gosh, this took so long. Or at least it feels like it. This chapter is abnormally long, but I had a plan to properly introduce Freddy Kruegar unlike the snippets I had before. Oh, he's not really in this chapter either, but he is introduced. Thank you for my reviewers, Darkness Takes Over and Sereneflower. I truly appreciate you guys! Nightmare on Elm Street belongs to Wes Craven.**

The knocking stopped for a moment, and the door opened slightly, revealing a very irritated looking Jesse. With a frustrated sigh, she dumped her bag on the floor and sat in the chair across from the Emily with a _plonk_. She sunk down into her chair, a pout playing on her face, her arms crossed.

"Hm. Okay. Are you… alright?" Emily asked the girl, only to receive an angry sigh.

Jesse scowled, "I was told to go to your office again after lunch. I had um…'an episode'." She leaned forward, her head in her hands. She had fallen asleep while talking to JB over lunch and he couldn't wake her up. Freddy had gotten the back of her leg as she had escaped, but no one had noticed it fortunately. Unfortunately, she had been screaming and jolting around in her sleep.

Emily leaned forward, "What kind of episode?" She had to admit that she wanted to know more about what was wrong with this girl. Not just because she felt the need to help her, but also because her curiosity wouldn't stop nagging.

"I fell asleep and had a nightmare. When I have nightmares… I try to fight, to defend myself. I end up actually moving around while I'm asleep." As she said this, the back of leg began to pulse and she began to worry that it was bleeding through her pants.

"Does it work?"

The girl gave a strange look, "What?"

"In the nightmares, do you always defend yourself? I mean, this probably sounds stupid, but are you able to successfully protect, well, you?" Emily tried to maintain a serious face, wanting to look professional.

A blush streamed across Jesse's face, "I… Well… Not always… I mean, not exactly…" She could hear Freddy's laughter ring in her mind. He made her feel so defenseless, so helpless.

"Wait," Jesse started before Emily could say anything, "I still don't know you." The counselor bit her lip in utter frustration, making it go numb.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, "Okay…. If that will let me help you, what do you want to know? What can I tell you?" The teen froze at that, as that wasn't what she had been expecting. Most people, or so she thought, would rather not knowing anything than letting someone know something secret about themselves.

"Uh…." She started, "Well… Where are you from?" It was honestly the first question that popped in her mind.

"Rose Town. It's a city about ten miles north of here. I was born here, but my mom decided for us to move when I was a couple months old; or, at least that's what she told me." At that statement, Emily thought of her mother, a woman with almost unnatural beauty. She hadn't seen her in several months, although they both were at fault for that.

"Why?" Jesse never recalled hearing about old Mrs. Roster's daughter, even though she was a well-known member of the community.

"She was pregnant at an early age." Emily mumbled, biting her lip, "My mom wanted to 'make it big' as a dancer, so she left Springwood and rented an apartment cheap in Rose Town. She later got a job at the Cat's Club, this cabaret theater downtown." Jesse wouldn't know, but the adult hated talking about her mother.

"Did you work there too?"

"When I was older. Okay, do you know enough about me now? I think if I tell you anymore, I'll need to sign you up to write my biography." As Emily said this, a small smile appeared on Jesse's face.

Jesse's smile grew, "Yeah, I think that's enough. I guess you want to know more about the dreams." The counselor mirrored the smile.

Finally, she thought, "That would be a start. So… What do you usually dream about?" She couldn't think of anything else to say, but it was a start. Her index finger began to click on the desk subconsciously.

"There's a man. Always the same man." Jesse started, not being able to look at her, "He's… covered in burns all over his body. He always wears this dirty red-and-green sweater." At this point, she concentrated on the cream colored walls that surrounded the two females. She realized that she shouldn't feel ashamed, but telling someone else about him almost felt… like losing. As though by telling she lost some sort of sick, cruel game.

"O-k. You mean to tell me… that a burn victim running around in a Christmas sweater is haunting your dreams? Not that that's bad, it's just… Really?"

"It's not like he's chasing me with a pillow!" Jesse snapped, "On his right hand is a glove with knives on each of the fingers except his thumb. All I know is that he wants to kill me. I don't know why. He just does." Her body went numb. She had said it, even knowing that nothing would ever help. It would just be knocked off as a nightmare.

Emily sat back in her chair, contemplating. It sounded like a case of repressed emotions. She remembered writing a paper of the human mind creating dreams as a subconscious entity to a real-life situation. She had flunked it, as she couldn't understand why dreams could have such a meaning. Dreams were just dreams, why anything more? Of course her professor had written e-mail to her explaining the concept that sometimes things in life were too hard to deal with consciously.

She would go with that, "Are you bullied?" The girl seemed taken aback by the question.

"What? What does that have anything to do with my dreams?"

"Could you please just answer the question?"

"Um, no. I mean, I'm not popular or anything, but people don't bother with me." At this she put her hand to her chest, feeling a small crucifix underneath her shirt. Having religion wasn't as common as one might think.

Emily leaned forward, "Any problems at home?" The logical person in her couldn't think of any other reason why she would be having such terrifying nightmares. Of course, sometimes people had nightmares for no reason, but if that were the case, would she be so torn about it? In this light, Jesse saw it not as reasoning, but as an attack.

Tears began to form in the teen's eyes, "Are you trying to hint that I'm having these dreams because of some kind of trauma? If that's what you're trying to say… Y-you're wrong. H-he has a name a-and he's scary a-and h-he-" She hiccupped as tears ran down her cheeks. At this the adult could see a thick black line of obviously-not-waterproof mascara mix in.

Emily jumped up, walking around the desk to hug the child. The girl made no attempt to hug back, but cried harder. She had finally reached her breaking point.

She screamed into Emily's shoulder, "H-h-he has a boiler room and he's killed so many kids there! He chopped them all up and now he wants to chop me up! He gonna cut up all the children of Springwood and there's nothing anybody can do about it!" The adult knew she shouldn't have held her, that it wasn't what a teacher should do for a student, but she didn't know what else to do.

She could only hold on tighter, "It's just a nightmare, Jesse! It can't hurt you! This guy, whatever his name is-"

"Freddy! His name is Freddy!" Jesse yelled, wriggling out of Emily's hold. Another Freddy? That had to be some sort of weird coincidence. Or perhaps, it was just everything coming together.

She said her thoughts aloud, "Freddy Kruegar?" As soon as she said it, she wondered why. She hadn't meant to say it. This feeling was intensified as a look of sheer terror washed itself over Jesse's face.

"What did you say?" she whispered, "Who told you his last name?" A silence filled the room like toxic gas. It was almost choking.

"The janitor, he was joking around about it. He made it sound like some sort of taboo if you weren't in on it."

Jesse's face twisted from fear to anger, "I knew it… I knew it! The adults, the teachers, the parents… They know what's going on and they aren't doing anything to stop it! They won't do anything until we all end up like Anne Meyer!" The girl clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Did you just say Anne Meyer?" Emily asked, "That was the girl that died last night… What does this man, Kruegar, have to do with it?"

She paused for an answer, and then continued, "Was Anne… having dreams too?" She still was there, crouched next to the girls chair. Jesse stood up from her seat, almost knocking the adult over. The girl quickly wiped her eyes.

"I have to go." She declared, grabbing up her backpack, "I'm sorry I got all upset all over the place." She quickly went to the door, stopping just as her hand touched the knob. By this time, Emily had stood up, confused.

Jesse turned around, "I'm going to sound crazy, but please, please Ms. Rosters, don't go to sleep tonight. Just, stay awake all night if you have to, just don't fall asleep, and don't even take a nap. Just. Please." With that, the girl left, making it the second time in one day that she left that office with questions still hanging in the air. Except this time Emily could feel a headache begin to settle along with the original tinge of annoyance.

One or two more students came in, each wanting to talk about disloyal boyfriends. Emily had handled both quickly, Jesse still hanging in her mind. She had gone home that afternoon, dragging her feet. Freddie met her at the door with a slight mew and purr. Mabel Rosters was quiet and decided that it would be better not to ask. If she had had a horrible day, she most likely didn't want to talk about it.

She was right not to. If she had, she most likely would have gotten a strangled moan of frustration, that and an interrogation over the identity of a Frederick Kruegar. Jesse had formally decided in her last few hours of non-freaky-ness that she would only mention it if it came up. Otherwise, she was positive she was just going to get more bullshit. So, basically it meant a very quiet dinner, strange for the two of them, and a curt, almost professional, goodnight.

She dressed her favorite pajamas, the usual tank top and shorts. Picking up 'Dark Desires', Emily read where she had last left off. Damian, a man with less-than-good intentions, had been tainting Elaine, a very proper girl, with seduction. More so, it meant yet another steamy scene that would make her curl her toes. It had been a while since her last interaction with the opposite sex, making the prospect even more intriguing to her.

This went on for about two hours, until she had finished the book and reread all the good scenes, leaving her sitting there, nice and warm and in bed. Freddie had already fallen asleep an hour earlier on his pillow, his small stomach moving in and out with every breathe. Trying not to wake him, Emily scratched him behind the ears, which made him purr in his sleep. Sleep. It sounded nice now that she was comfortable.

While she remembered the teens warning, she also remembered several things: Jesse is a teenager, what does she know? It sounded way too horror-movie to actually cause harm. Who was Freddy Kruegar? No one had told her, so as far as she knew, he was the friendly milkman who gave out free hugs. The final thought was what convinced her.

No one said _what_ would happen if she fell asleep. Curiosity killed the cat. Yet, it was exciting, the thought of doing exactly what she had been told not to. While it was sad that that was one of her only forms of exciting, it made her feel that familiar exhilarating tinge of rebelliousness that had streaked through her every ounce of being as a teenager. It was a Pandora's box.

This in mind, Emily tucked into bed and quickly fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes, she was still in bed, but the bed itself had traveled. Freddie was no longer there next to her, not that she would have wanted him with her at that moment. In the dim light surrounding her it looked like some sort of boiler room. Steaming pipes were all around her, and immediately she noted the feeling of the holed catwalk underneath her bare feet. For a moment, she was happy she had picked such a cool outfit, as it was unbearably hot.

The next she wasn't. A grating noise filled the air. A sort of metal-on-metal that gave chills when hearing it so close. Emily quickly realized that the sound was coming from behind her. Strolling along as though it was just a walk in the park was a man wearing some sort of bladed gloves on his right hand. A fedora lay slightly askew atop his head, and his red-and-green sweater made him stand out among the dark catacombs of the room.

Emily then decided that she didn't want to get close enough to see if his face was covered in burns. With a slight feeling of vulnerability, she began to run the other way. A laugh, deep and raspy, followed her and echoed off the walls. Courage be damned, she was getting away from that laugh if it killed her. As a pain began to prick into her feet, she realized that that was what probably would happen. Never before had she worried about her life, about dying.

Suddenly it flashed before her as the man materialized in front of her, causing her to run into him. His hands wrapped around her arms, the bladed hand cutting into her left arm. His face, she noticed, was truly covered in burns and Emily felt almost like gagging.

His smile was malicious, his teeth rotting, "Hello, bitch. The name's Freddy Kruegar. I hear you've been talking to some of my piggies."


	5. Chapter 5: My World

**Well, what can I say, I was struck with artistic inspiration! Thank you to all of my lovely readers and reviewers, you know who you are! Nightmare on Elm Street belongs to Wes Craven, not me obviously.**

Emily stood, frozen, not knowing what to do. A picture of a deer caught in the headlights flashed through her mind. When the first sentence of his words finally registered, she found herself in a very aggravating position.

"Wait, did you just call me a bitch?" she grated out, "Okay, man-bitch, whoever the hell you are, you're an asshole!" Then the rest of his introduction registered. His blades cut deeper into her arm.

A light bulb flickered on, "Oh. Wait. _You're_ Freddy Kruegar? Shit." With that, she gave a swift kick in a very painful area and proceeded to run in the other direction. She didn't wait to see if he doubled over in hurt.

It wasn't exactly her greatest plan, but it was working so far. Pain began to pulse into her arm, blood running down like a small stream. She wondered briefly why she hadn't felt it the moment he cut her, but then decided that this was already a terribly a screwed-up dream and inconsistencies such as that could be ignored. The only sound was her feet pounding on the catwalk. She looked behind her, only to find that Kruegar was no longer running behind her.

She stopped to catch her breath and wondered where he had gone. Silence surrounded her, as there was no laughter or the noise of his claws on metal. It was at this point that she took a good look around. By the look of it, the room was a never-ending cycle of pipes and steaming metal. A few hooks on chains hung next to her. A switch to lower them stood in arms reach.

She grabbed the chain closest, pulling to see how stable it was. Her best bet at survival was to get on the ground floor. Either that, or try to find the bed and see if falling asleep again would save her. She pulled the chain once more as she considered the two options. One could possibly break and send her on a long trip down to break her neck. The other would involve her going back to a knife-happy freak that would love to skin her like a cat.

She picked the less dangerous of the two. She climbed over the pole that separated the catwalk from, well, no catwalk. Placing one foot on the hook, she balanced herself, thanking her years as a dancer. Holding on for dear life, she used her right hand, still unwounded, to pull the lever, swinging slightly to reach it. This had to be the most elaborate, but also the stupidest, idea she had ever had. There was a slight moment of hesitation in the workings, and Emily reached her hand out to try and pull the lever again. This ended in the chain making a fast drop down, the adult barely hanging on.

A rather foul word could be heard in every crevice of the building as she began to scream for dear life. At some point in this, her other hand slipped off, the chain wrapping around her foot. By the time she reached the bottom, she was upside down and not very happy about it. She was just high enough for her hair to brush against the ground, but low enough that if she dropped then the most she would have to worry about is a possible concussion. Considering what else could have happened, that was the least of her worries.

Her tank top began to slide down, as did her shorts. When she heard that eerie, horrifying chuckle, her hands jumped to try and pull up both. Remembering that saving her decency was the least of her worries, she pulled herself up a little and began to fumble with the tangled chain on her ankle. With a yelp of delight, she fell to the ground, the hook in her hands.

"Ha, what now, bitch?" she yelled into the darkness. The laughter stopped for a moment and was replaced by a hissing noise. She looked at her hand and shrieked to see that she was now holding a snake, not a hook. She screamed and dropped the creature. The laughter resumed.

The chuckle rang in her ears, "What now, bitch?" Emily began to run yet again and was relieved for the feeling of concrete on her feet.

It seemed as though the path would never end, that she would either run forever or eventually hit a dead end. Steam hit her face as she ran. The bleeding in her arm had slowed, although she now felt a bit dizzy from what she had already lost. Then, it was as though the metaphorical clouds had parted, a door could be seen. She practically jumped on it, yanking it open and running in with no second thoughts.

In just a few seconds, she was at the Cat's Club. The smell of cigars and booze hit her immediately and she felt at home. Yet, she was still weary, which she felt was completely justified considering the trip she just went through. In the dim light, she could see an audience waiting in their seats at their tables for entertainment. Looking at the lit up stage, a few backup dancers had set up and began, waiting for the lead dancer to arrive.

Emily felt strange being back there and even recognized some of the girls dancing. The song was instrumental, probably new, with heavy beats and pounds of the drums. Just standing there she could feel the music course through her body, and she remembered the thrill that seemed to have gone away so long ago, even though it was only a few weeks. She found herself in a trance watching them, until someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Turning around, she saw none other than her mother standing, hands on hips. Blue eye shadow caked around her deep brown eyes and her full lips were rouged blood red. Her blonde hair framed her face, making her look younger. Then again, Emily had always felt her mother had an almost timeless beauty about her. Even she had to admit that Jackie Rosters had a face made for the entertainment industry. The last time they had talked, both were in tears.

"Where were you?" her mother asked accusingly, "You're supposed to be back stage! At least you're dressed…" This caused Emily to look down at herself to see that she was no longer in her pajamas, but the dress she had always dressed in for work.

"But… Mom!" she argued, "You, we were- Last time… You told me never to talk to you again!"

"What are you talking about? Go get on stage!"

With that, Emily was pushed through the door that led to back stage. The darkness of it was familiar and soothed her nerves. Instinct, or maybe something else, pulled her closer to the actual stage. Maybe it was a sign that the nightmare was over and she was just having a normal dream. That was it. This couldn't be a nightmare. He was gone. She could forget that this wasn't reality.

She twirled onto the stage, moving to the time of the song. Her feet were bare as they slapped against the wood floor. The velvet red curtains she knew from since she was a little girl framed all the dancers. Emily had no idea how to dance to this song, she just flit to the beat. It was strange, as she was used to hours of practice and rehearsal before a song yet she danced to this like it was nothing. It was a feeling you couldn't know unless you were feeling it.

Her hips and arms moved seamlessly with the music, the backup dancers mimicking her from behind. Then she stopped. All of a sudden, she remembered that this wasn't real, that it was just a dream. She stood on stage, looking out to the audience. Men and women she knew stared back at her. In the crowd she could see her mother, her grandmother, friends from high school, Jesse, and even Mr. Unklin. Why hadn't she noticed before?

In the middle of it all stood Freddy Kruegar, a wide grin on his face. So he hadn't left. He was there, enjoying the show, enjoying that he got to twist and distort her mind. He raised a clawed finger, and everyone around him dropped. Behind her, Emily could hear the bodies of the dancers drop as well. Whether they were dead or not was anyone's guess. She wanted to go check, but she was paralyzed with fear.

"Like it?" Freddy growled, "I felt the place needed a little… Kruegar touch." The body of Jesse lay at his feet. He picked it up, caressing the face and playing with her hair.

Emily let out a guttural scream, "Don't you dare touch her, you, you creeper!" Freddy dropped the body and in an instant was in front of Emily, claws flicking back and forth.

"What are you gonna do about it, bitch? She's my piggy. She and the rest of them, they're all my piggies, my children!" He grabbed the adult, his eyes a fierce blue-ish green.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" she struggled, causing more cuts on her arm, "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Aw, don't be like that!" he mocked, "Let's kiss and make up!" He leaned his face in, tongue sticking out of his mouth.

Needless to say, when Emily woke up a few seconds later, she was kicking and spitting. She ran to the darkened bathroom and gargled three caps of mouthwash. That had to be the worst dream she had ever had, and she had some pretty bad nightmares in the past. It had felt so real, from the boiler room to the cuts. Her right hand immediately felt her left arm, only to have a burning sensation course through her. Taking her hand away, she realized that it was also wet and sticky.

"What the hell?" She muttered, flipping on the light switch. Her arm was covered in overlapping cut marks. She looked as though some animal had come up and clawed at her arm. Claws. The image of Freddy Kruegar immediately flashed through her mind. "Oh my god."

The rest of that night was spent washing her sheets, which at that point were soaked with blood. While waiting, she tried to put on bandages, when she figured out that it was actually harder than it looked. She had finally gotten it wrapped up when she realized that she had no idea how to tie it off. With a feeling of frustration, the adult used her resources. This basically included duct tape, because duct tape fixes everything.

By the time dawn came around, there had been no evidence of the nightmare in the house. Freddie had been carefully moved to the couch, a noticeable change when he got up that morning to lick Emily's face only to find a pillow. She had made the bed and had gotten dressed before her grandmother woke up, just to make sure. A jolt passed through her every time she caught herself falling asleep. There was no way in hell she was going back there.

She didn't know why any of the things that happened did just that. All she knew is that morning she had a mission. That mission was to track Jesse down and force her to tell _just_ what the hell had happened. Of course, Emily could feel that tiny voice in the back of her head go, 'Well, it's your own damn fault. She said don't go to sleep, and what do you do?'

If Emily had been a little less shaken, she might have given this voice a mental middle finger.


	6. Chapter 6: Meetings

**Hello and, so very, very sorry again. This chapter could definitely been better, but I just didn't have any inspiration for it. I hope you'll forgive me for the delay; I'll try to make the next chapter even better and hopefully longer! If you guys have any ideas for future chapters, I'll be happy to listen. **

When Emily got to her office that morning she brought her new novel, 'Midnight Lover'. She figured that way she wouldn't get bored while waiting. When, or if, Jesse came in, she was going to force her to say what happened. She knew, and that was all Emily had to know. The counselor actually felt bad for her when she thought about the fact that she had been having those dreams for at least a while before she came. She felt bad for not believing her.

That was going to change. So she waited. No students came in for hours. By the time third period rolled along, she felt desperate for human interaction. She was a slow reader, so she was still in the beginning stages of the book. Her arm still hurt, but only if she accidentally brushed it against something. To hide it, she had put on a very baggy hoodie that lie in her closet. Her head shot up as she heard the door open.

"Hello?" Jesse called, "You in here?"

Emily stood up, "You and I have to talk." With this, she pulled up the sleeves of her hoodie.

"Woah…" the teen stared, "Your arm! Oh, no. You fell asleep didn't you? I told you to stay awake! Wait… Is that duct tape?"

"Um… Yes? To everything."

"Why is there duct tape on the bandages?" Jesse put her hand to the tape, almost as if seeing if she could pull it off.

"You know, I think we should talk about Freddy Kruegar before we talk about his damage. Like, why this is happening, perhaps? Why did he go after me?"

"Well, that's a good question. We don't know why he wants to hurt people, he just does. He's a bit of a sadist, I think."

"We? Who is 'we'? Who else is this happening to?" At that moment, Emily thought of the list of students she had, the "Student is prone to horrific nightmares" label. Did that mean that the other counselor before her knew about it?

Jesse gulped, "Crap. You weren't supposed to find out about that. Um… Yeah. There are a few of us. You're the only adult out of us, though. JB thinks it's weird and wants to find out why."

"Oh. Well, that explains that, but-"

"Wait a minute," Jesse said, "I need to fix that bandage. It's not even tied on right. Here, I have a safety pin." With that, the teen came over and ripped the duct tape off.

"Yow!" The teen ignored the howling and rewrapped the bandages on her arm, fastening it with the safety pin. She heaved a sigh.

"Meet me in room 201 after school. I think you need to meet the rest of the group." Her face looked uncharacteristically calm. At least, Emily thought she looked calm.

Emily nodded, "Okay, then, I guess that's what I'll do. Thanks for the bandage, anyways." She pulled the sleeve back down to hide the wound.

"See you at three." Jesse mumbled before leaving. The only thought that passed through Emily's mind was the awkward tension and wording of that conversation. It was like the author of their lives had no inspiration to write.

She laughed, "That was a strange thought." Her eyes drooped and let out a yawn. She usually wasn't so tired from missing just one night. Perhaps it was an effect of Freddy Kruegar, or perhaps not. She would probably have to ask the little group when she met with them.

At one point during the day, right after lunch, Emily found herself impatient for the day to end. The book had reached a slow spot, making it uninteresting and not really something she wanted to read. All she could do was wait. When a knock came softly at the door, she leaned forward, wanting to know whom it was. A teenage girl with pixie-style brown hair walked in, her eyes reflecting a confused and curious look.

"Hello? Are you the counselor?" She asked.

"Oh, yes, is there something you need?"

The girl's face scrunched in frustration, "Well, it's not as much me as it is a friend of mine. The girl who died last night, Anne, it was his girlfriend… He's really wrecked up about it, but he won't talk to anybody. The both of them had been acting really weird for a while now…"

"Weird," She asked, "What do you mean by 'weird'?"

"Like, how do I even say it? They were scared of sleeping and they were hanging out with the… well… The losers of the school. Up until last night anyways. Now he won't even talk to me." It was moments like these that Emily wondered if things were really 'destiny' or just a series of funny coincidences. She almost knew at that moment that he was one of the kids Jesse had been talking about.

She spoke her thoughts, "Is his name JB?"

"No…. It's Mark, Mark Henderson, but JB is one of those other kids. Do you know about what's going on?" The girl asked, her eyebrow rising, "Oh, I'm Celia, by the way."

That was a great question, Emily thought, "Not exactly. I had just heard his name and was curious. It's only… Actually, it's only my second day here. If he's not talking to you, you do realize it's only been a day, right? He might not want to talk to anybody."

"Oh," Celia mumbled, "Well, can you talk to him, maybe pull him out of class? I know it's only been a day, but… I don't know, I just have a bad feeling." If he was having the dreams with Freddy Kruegar, she had every right to be worried. She, however, probably had no idea of the matter.

"I'll see what I can do." Emily managed to say. The girl thanked her and left her to whatever business she might have had. The counselor began to wonder how many kids were in that group. She wondered how many were subjected to that creature. She wondered for how long. Did their parents _really _know, or were they just in denial?

At the thought of parents, she began to think of her own. Seeing her mother in her dream last night, even if it was a by-product of that Kruegar guy, made her sad. Sad, not because she felt bad for leaving the business, but because of how they had left each other the last time they had met. She still had about ten to twenty minutes before leaving, and took out her cell phone. Her fingers brushed against the keys, then stopped.

It hadn't been _her_ fault that they were so angry at each other. If anything, it was her mother's entire fault. All Emily had wanted to do was find a different life than what she had, away from the glitter and stage lights she was used to. She didn't know exactly what it was she did want, but she knew it wasn't that. Her mother didn't like that. Jackie, as Emily called her mother when angry, thought that the adult was throwing her life away after working so hard.

She had seethed at her daughter, "I can't believe you! After all the training and, and practicing I put you through! You could be famous if you really wanted, while your still young! I had to scrape up everything I have to get where I am today, why? Because I had a kid to take care of and now I'm too old and-"

"Go to hell!" Emily had screamed. The rest of the conversation phased through her mind, forgotten. All she really remembered, besides the blatant, "Get out! Don't speak to me again" at the end, was her saying that one phrase to her mother. Emily never recalled saying anything to that extent to her before, but in that moment it had rolled off the tongue as though she had been meaning to say it all along. Bitterly, she shoved the phone in her pocket the moment the final bell rang.

She grabbed her things and placed them into the small bag she had brought. The situation with her mother would have to be worked out later. She wandered the halls slowly, watching as all the students eased out of the building, ready to relax for the rest of the day. The numbered rooms were passed until the numbers came close to what she was looking for. 204. 203. 202. Then, finally, 201. Not knowing exactly what to do, she knocked and slowly made her way in as though she had been called to the principles office.

"Hello?" she called. A group of three teens raised their heads at her, several desks turned to face one another.

One of them, a tall and very thin boy, spoke back, "Who are you?" He had a mess of brown hair that reached just past his ears and gray eyes that looked sharply through her. Another boy, one with very large muscles and wide shoulders, got up behind the first.

Emily was taken aback by the reaction, "Well, my names-"

"Okay, I'm here. The counselor should be here any second!" The counselor in question turned to see Jesse, a grin on her face. The girl stopped.

Her smile still stood, "There you are! Guys, this is Ms. Rosters." Then, as if enacting some sort of ritual, she went to Emily to pull up the sleeve with the bandage. A moment of silence passed before the three teens joined the fourth and sat down without another word. Emily followed Jesse, sitting down at the desk next to her.

"I think introductions are in order." The skinny boy began, "I'm JB. The muscle brain over here is Mark. You already know Jesse, and the girl on the other side of you is Alice." Emily turned to look at her, seeing a petite Asian girl with long black hair decorated with a beanie. She gave a small wave and her brown eyes portrayed a look of curiosity.

Mark gave a curt wave, "Yeah, nice to meet you. Jesse told us about you yesterday and this morning." Everyone in that room looked sickly and as though they were going to pass out at any moment. It was a wonder that they weren't being sent to the doctors at the state they were in.

"So you guys are all having these… dreams?" Emily asked. Slowly, everybody nodded. Mark look as though he was about to cry.

He choked slightly, "Anne was too. She had them before any of us. Then it was JB, then it was me, then Jesse, Alice, and finally…. You."

JB cleared his throat, "Welcome to the 'Nightmares in Springwood' club, where all we want to do kill Freddy Kruegar and make sure he never shows his burnt-ass face ever again."


	7. Chapter 7: Meetings pt 2

Hey, sorry. I haven't really been on top of writing this story and I feel sorry for the people who have really wanted to read it. I've been having a really bad case of writers block and I've had this story in my computer undone for a while now. Not much Freddy in this chapter, sorry. If you guys have anything you want to help me with or tell me, I'll listen. Thank you!

"This is what we're doing? Trying to kill him?" Emily asked, "Do you guys even know what we're dealing with?"

"Do you?" Mark snapped, "No offense lady, but just because you're older than us means you know more than we do. In fact, with you being last in line to get the dreams, it means we know a helluva lot more than you do." His eyes narrowed at her. It was at this moment that the adult felt very alone in the group.

Jesse yelled at him, "Cripes, Mark! She was just asking!"

"I'm not sorry." He glared. Emily was sure at this point he would have thrown daggers if they were in arms reach. It had been a while since she had felt such hostility directed at her person, and she could honestly say she didn't miss it much.

"That would be the lack of sleep talking." Alice quietly commented. She smiled meekly at the adult, obviously trying to be helpful. It was at this moment that she noticed that the teen was dressed in all black from head to toe, making her much more darker in appearance. Emily nodded at her.

She asked, "If you guys want to destroy him or whatever the equivalent would be, do you have any ideas so far?" Everyone at this point looked down.

"Not exactly." Jesse shrugged, "But maybe with you here, we can all think of something together."

JB nodded, "That was exactly what I had in mind. You're the only adult among us, making you closer to him in a way. Here, we talk about the dreams we've had with him. Last night was your first, right?"

"Yes." And with that, Emily told them about her dream, everything from the boiler room, to the 'Cat's Club'. Every once and a while, she noticed JB, Mark, or Jesse would exchange glances with one another. Alice just listened intently, focused on the story. Occasionally she would sigh or make a small gasp at what she heard, but other than that remained silent.

Once she was finished, JB sighed, "I think it's safe to say he was trying to say something."

"Yeah." Mark agreed, "I'm thinking old Fred was opting for the 'Back the hell off' option. But why was he worried about a counselor? I mean, Mrs. Finkles was the counselor and he never bothered her."

"As far as we know." JB added, "For _all_ that we know, he was visiting her every time she went to sleep. Honestly, though, he would have killed her if she didn't listen. Most likely he saw her near the end and she had a breakdown."

Jesse's eyes drooped down, "She was a nice lady…"

"Anne was an nice girl!" Mark snapped, "She…. The both of them, they… Why does he… have to do this? Why this town, why us?" His head fell into his hands and his back racked with what sounded like sobs. Jesse rubbed his back.

He rubbed his eyes, "She would hate it, to see me crying like a little girl. She would tease me and say that men don't cry. Then she would cry, not because of what happened, but because I was crying. She hated seeing people cry." Emily got up and crouched next to his chair, wanting to help.

"Mark." She started, hugging his shoulders with one arm, "It's alright for you to cry. Everybody does, and that's okay. Trust me." The teen looked up at her for a moment, his blue eyes rimmed with red. He turned away from her and gently brushed her hand off his shoulder.

"You're supposed to say that, you're a counselor." He gave a tiny smile, "But, thanks anyways. She probably would've liked you." Emily nodded, going back to her seat. She couldn't even imagine what he was going through, and wondered how the rest of them were affected.

A moment of silence passed before she began, "Does he, I mean, Kruegar, what does he do? I mean, are all of the dreams the same, or are they different?"

JB put his hand to his chin, "We wondered that, and it would seem no. He likes to attack with what we're familiar with. He'll attack as doctors, as a policeman, or even our friends. Once I had 'Alice' put five stitches in my abdomen."

"In one of mine, the cross came to life and tried to crush me." Jesse recalled, "My family is rather… religious, so it was probably him trying to enact a poetic injustice." As she said this, she held tightly onto a cross around her neck.

Alice mumbled, "Mine owns a lot of birds. They kept screaming about pecking my eyes out in my first dream. Glad they didn't succeed."

"Anne would dream she was in a hospital and the doctors were trying to stab needles in her arm. She had a phobia. Me, I dreamed that my mom tried to cook me in a pie, like that one story, Hansel and Gretel. Anne woke me up before I got burned." Mark said.

"He likes to screw with people." JB said thoughtfully, "Before he kills them. There were other teens besides us that were attacked by him. Or we think, anyways. They were murdered before we could find out. The worst part about it is that Kruegar just makes them look natural. A heart attack here, an asthma attack there…"

"Except Anne?" Emily asked.

"Except Anne." Mark agreed, "In a few days, everyone will know the details of how she was found. Including us. After the funeral, we'll all know."

Emily gave a strange look to which JB answered, "It's a small town. Everything that goes on is known about in full detail within a few days. Jesse told us about you coming from the city a bit north." She nodded, feeling as if the words 'city-slicker' were just imprinted on her forehead.

"So where does that leave us?" Emily asked, "If we're going to try and kill him, how do we know what to do?"

"That's where you come in." JB smiled, "The locals here have all but tried to erase Freddy Krueger from Springwood's history. There's nothing to be found in the library, meaning that the best bet would be to check out the library in one of the cities."

"And you guys can't do this because…?"

Jesse piped in, "It would look kind of suspicious if we started taking trips for some research. Even JB's parents would begin to wonder…" At this JB looked down, as if embarrassed at something.

"O-k. So, what, I go and look him up? Does that mean he was a person at one point?"

"Possibly. Even if not, there has to be something on him… Even if he's some ancient demon that feeds off the fear of the children of Springwood, there has to be something on him that we can use! Are you going to help us?" JB leaned forward in his chair, waiting for an answer. All the teens turned to Emily, their expressions similar.

The adult bit her lip, the weight of pressure pounding on top of her shoulders, "Of course I'll help. Why wouldn't I help?" The heavy feeling lifted slightly, but mostly remained there, shoving down.

The teens all smiled at her. That was exactly what they had been hoping to hear. They all talked for a while longer, deciding that it would be a good idea for the adult to visit Rose Town for the information, considering she knew her way around the city. Emily reluctantly agreed with this, not really wanting to visit the place. Thinking back at her self-foiled attempt to call her mother, going back didn't seem like a good idea.

"Well," JB said after a while, "I think this concludes the meeting for today. Ms. Rosters, hopefully we'll see you again tomorrow." She nodded as they all began to go out into the hallway and to their separate ways. She was about to head over to her home when she heard a voice.

"Hey!" Jesse called to her, "Wait up!" Mark was sulking closely behind.

"What is it?"

Jesse tilted her head to the side, "I live across the street from you and Mark lives a couple doors down. Makes sense to walk together, doesn't it?" Mark nodded in agreement.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Emily mumbled, "I guess I didn't think about it…" They all walked down the hall of the school, which was pretty quiet since all the kids had gone home.

Mark coughed lightly, "So what's it like in the city?"

"It's… I don't know; it's like the city. Have you guys never been?" the adult shrugged. Both teens shook their heads, giving each other knowing looks.

"I see." She thought about it for a moment, "It's big. Yeah, the city is big…"

"I kind of figured that." Mark said sarcastically.

Emily rolled her eyes, "You didn't let me finish! The city is… Well, there are a lot of people all the time. Sometimes it's too crowded for one person. There's crime in a lot of places, it's not as safe as it is here-" she quickly corrected herself, "I mean, not counting Krueger."

"Still," Jesse started, "I bet it's nice. Having the freedom to do whatever you want in a wide space. You're not…" She stopped trying to think of a word.

Mark sneered, "Trapped in one damn spot?"

"I think just 'trapped' would work. But, yeah. In a small town like this, the only place to really go is away. Staying won't get you anywhere. Especially if you're an artist."

Emily could see her house from where they were, "Do you sing or something, Jesse?" The teen's eyes widened in surprise and her mouth opened in a large O.

"Oh no!" she quickly stated, "The only time I sing is at church. I have a horrible singing voice. I more meant just if you were an artist. I don't really know anybody… Hm, except maybe Alice."

"Alice?" the adult inquired. Jesse nodded.

"The quiet, but nice chick in black?" Mark said, "She paints a lot. Or, so I've heard. Supposedly she's really good, but she never shows people what she paints."

"Then again, she's very private." Jesse mumbled, "I mean, I don't think she hung around with anyone before us…"

"Kind of sad that she doesn't get any real friends until someone's trying to kill her."

Jesse lightly punched him in the arm, "Don't say things like that. We don't really know that." She looked to her house, then gave a curt nod, "Well, there's my house… See you two tomorrow! Don't fall asleep!"

As she walked off, Mark sighed to himself, "She's nice, isn't she? I really hope she'll be okay."

"I'm sure she'll be fine. We'll all be fine." Emily said, putting her hand on Mark's shoulder before asking, "Mark, do you know someone named Celia?"

"Yeah, she… she was friends with Anne. Why?"

Emily gave him a worried look, "Well, she's worried about you. Maybe you should call her or something. She cares about you and you should let her know you appreciate that."

"You know, you sound like a teenager sometimes." He said, "I think you'll be a good counselor." He waved and walked away, going to his house. Emily did the same.

Freddie greeted her with a swift lick of her hand, jumping up to reach. It was much later than she had planned to get back. She could see a note from her grandmother on the fridge:

Emily,

I'm going to bed. Dinner is in the fridge; just reheat it in the microwave.

Honey, your mother called. I don't know what happened between you two, and I promised I wouldn't ask, but I think you should call her.

Grandma

Freddie mewed softly at her feet, rubbing against her legs. Emily picked up the phone and sighed. She grabbed her cat in the crook of her arm as she dialed.

"Hey, mom? It's Emily… Yeah. Yeah. I miss you too."


End file.
